A flash races past my shoulder accompanied by a flash of light and explosion of sound from the opposite side of the dark hallway. I fire back, nailing them in the leg, then the arm, and finally the chest. As I approach their body, it twitches, and their arm raises, firing a single shot into my right arm. Grimacing, I tourniquet my arm. Minutes later, I am driving a car back to the safe house, admiring the Twin moons in the sky with my supervisor calling over the car’s stereo system. I report my injuries and the result of the mission. They sigh and state, “In adherence to Intelligence Service code, you are forced to either retire, or enter analytics given your loss of an arm, making you far less formidable in the field. I choose none, deciding to return to college for a time, given I never ended up finishing due to my job. I think I’ll go into, genetics.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.